


The Kiss

by JerseyGirl



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Kissing, Love, M/M, One Shot, POV Danny "Danno" Williams, Stolen Moments, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-05
Updated: 2012-07-05
Packaged: 2017-11-09 05:07:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/451649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JerseyGirl/pseuds/JerseyGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What it's <i>not</i> about...and what it <i>is</i> about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> A very short one-shot for 4th of July...because I fully believe that if they were kissing...even quietly and gently...there'd be fireworks.

It’s not the looks from eyes that could make you come from their intensity alone if you dared tried to hold his gaze for too long. 

It’s not the way he leans toward you, _into_ you, when you’re talking about a case, even if your teammates are close by. 

It’s not the way his eyes search frantically for you in the aftermath of a typical Five-0 case wrap-up involving explosions, gunfire, dips in the ocean or wild car chases…and then upon finding you, how the tension in his body is released all at once when he sees you’re okay. 

It’s not the special smile he reserves only for you, given like a gift only when no one else is looking. 

It’s not this strange, quiet stoppage of Time, when you’ve just followed him into the house, and you’ve closed the door behind you. When he turns to look at you, and you see _that_ look in his eyes. You see him lean toward you, only this time with a special kind of intent. You see the gratitude that you’re still there…that you haven’t left him by way of Death or any other method that would see you not standing here, right here, where you are _right_ now, looking up at him and holding your breath. 

It’s not that you’ve created your own tiny corner of the Earth where the two of you exist in your own separate world, where no one is out to get either of you, nor the ones you love. Where you can both pretend tomorrow won’t bring another chance for you to lose the tentative touch of his fingertips to your arm…the hesitant step he takes to get into your personal space, as though after all this time he still feels like he has to ask permission. 

No. It’s none of these things. 

It’s this. _This_ moment. Right here. 

The moment when he’s so close your eyes will cross if you don’t close them. 

The moment when the heat of his breath mingles with the heat of yours, as you inhale the very essence of each other, the very breaths that indicate _life_. 

The moment where the smells of the day – from sweat to gunpowder, from coffee to Kamekona’s lunch special he dripped on his shirt, from the echo of shampoo and aftershave and deodorant used early in the morning before hurriedly dressing for work to the scents of the flowers opening just outside the windows – gather together and permeate every pore of your body as you bask in what it means to be here with him like this. 

The moment when his lips, chapped and dry from a day spent chasing leads and suspects all over the boiling, baking island in mid-July, touch yours so lightly you barely know it happened at all. 

The moment when you stretch up to press your lips closer to his, asking his permission and giving yours. Receiving and taking. Loving with all your heart, and knowing that he is doing the same. 

The moment you’re reminded that it doesn’t matter that it’s been six years since the first time this happened…you know that every single day with him, every single night, every single stolen moment like this very one, will always seem as new, fresh and exciting as the first. 

Because it’s not about how many times you’ve fucked him or he’s fucked you. It’s not about how many fights you’ve had, how many times you’ve come to blows, each so passionate in his own way, only to come out the other end of it stronger than you’d ever been before. 

It’s about the movement of lips against lips that starts out so gently, so carefully. That displays every emotion neither of you can put name to. That shows you, more than anything else he ever says or does with you, to you or for you, how much he treasures each and every second he spends with you. How much you mean to him. How much he can’t live without you. 

It’s about what came before and what will come after. 

It’s about right now. 

It’s about the kiss. 


End file.
